


Nothing Just About It

by di93



Series: The Long Road [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confession rerwite, Dorian and Leliana are probably watching and laughing at them, F/M, Fluff, These dorks don't know how to use words properly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 01:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/di93/pseuds/di93
Summary: Evelyn goes to confess her feelings to Cullen. Then she rethinks it. But then shores up her courage again. Then it falters. Then Jim interrupts.





	Nothing Just About It

Evelyn hovered, her resolve wavering. Then she took a couple steps away, backing towards the door to Solas’ office, but after just a few steps, she stopped again. Surely she couldn’t be more afraid of just talking to someone than she had been when she’d first come into her magic, or when her circle fell, or when she found herself in shackles in Haven, or when she walked out of the Chantry to defend the survivors against an archdemon and red Templars, or when she fought that dragon in Crestwood, or when she marched on Adamant fortress, or, or—Maker, she was terrified of knocking on a blighted door, all because of the man she knew would be standing behind it. 

What if she was just fooling herself? She was a mage, after all, and while she knew that he was working on all the pain and anger that had festered in him since Kinloch Hold nearly fell, that didn’t mean that he would be interested in being in a relationship with a mage. Aside from that, she was his superior officer, in a way. She didn’t want to put any pressure on him—Maker knew that he put more than enough pressure on himself already. 

But then she remembered the night he had come to her room with a chessboard. He didn’t say anything, but she knew that he could tell she’d been crying. She knew that he had come to her room for her sake, not his own. How he knew that she needed someone to pull her out of her own head, she had no idea, but she thanked the Maker for whatever had put the idea in his head. 

He’d made her laugh more that night than she had in weeks, and every time she did, he had a _look_ on his face, a look that made both of their cheeks turn red when their eyes met. 

Squaring her shoulders, she marched back towards his door again, praying that she wasn’t fooling herself, that she wasn’t wrong. 

She opened the door and found him standing over his desk, staring down at a pile of neatly-organized reports as usual. When he looked up at her, he smiled just a little, and she tried to let it bolster her courage while also not letting it get her hopes up any. 

“Inquisitor. Do you need something?” 

“Yes, I—Could we talk? Alone,” she asked, only just noticing the runner standing a few paces away and forced her face to remain serious and neutral. Maker, if a courier saw how anxious she was over a crush, all of Skyhold would know within the day, and how could anyone take her seriously then? 

“Alone? I—I mean, of course,” Cullen managed before clearing his throat and walking out to the blessedly empty ramparts, holding the door for Evelyn to follow. “It’s a… nice day.” 

“What?” Evelyn replied ever-so eloquently.  

_Sweet Maker, Evelyn! Get a hold of yourself!_  

“It’s… There was something you wished to discuss?” 

Evelyn swallowed and looked away, eyes darting everywhere as she felt her mouth go dry. Maker, she’d practiced this! How did all words seem to vanish just out of grasp when she needed to talk to him? 

“Cullen, I—I know that I’m a mage. And the Inquisitor. And that everything is complicated and we’re busy, but do you think that… maybe you could see me as _just_ a woman?” she finally managed, looking up at him again, but she just saw the confusion on his face. 

“No?” 

It felt like a blow to the chest that knocked the air from her, but she tucked it away and nodded, straightening herself, feeling herself build her guard back up. Then, taking a quick breath, she forced a small smile to her face and met his eyes again, this time they were panicked, but he had no reason to fear for his job just because he’d rejected her. She still depended on him, after all, if not in quite the way— 

“Of course. Sorry to disturb you, Commander,” she said, backing away. “I’m sure you’re already busy with—” she cut herself off with a startled gasp when his hand was wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back towards him. 

“I’m sorry! I said the wrong thing. Maker’s Breath, when I’m around you, I can’t, I couldn’t—could you allow me to explain?” he asked, hopefully. Maker, why couldn’t he speak plainly in the times that it mattered most? 

He watched her stare at him for a moment, saw how she built up her defenses, how her body only seemed to stiffen more as she tried to decide how much more rejection she could take without letting him really see how hurt she felt, and Maker, he hated himself for being the one to do that to her. That wasn’t at all what he had intended! If he could just— 

She nodded, but took two steps back and gently but firmly pulled her hand away from him so that she could cross her arms. He was relieved, at least, that she was willing to hear him out, but Maker, had he already lost his chance? Her guard wasn’t going to give an inch.  

“In—” he cut himself off, glancing away as he scratched the back of his head nervously. Maker with her looking at him like that, it was hard to find any words at all, let alone the right ones. He looked back at her. “Evelyn,” he corrected, and her eyes met his looking between them, searching, and he took a half-step towards her, relieved when she didn’t step away. 

“I can’t see you as ‘just’ a woman. I can’t see you as ‘just’ anything,” he started, holding back a sigh when he saw her jaw clench. Maker, he was just making it worse. “You’re the Inquisitor who fights to save everyone. You’re the Herald of Andraste who gives us all hope. You’re a mage who protects and heals her allies,” he tried again, looking away from her for a moment so that he could try to gather his words. “You’re a woman I’ve seen go off to battle countless times, and, thankfully, I’ve seen you return every time as well,” he continued, looking back at her now.  

“I see all of this when I look at you. I can’t pretend they don’t exist any more than I can ignore that you left your hair down today so that it would hide that bruise on your forehead,” he said with a small smile, and the surprise on her face let him know that he’d broken through her guard just a little. He took another cautious step towards her and reached out, carefully brushing her hair behind her ear, revealing a yellowing bruise that faded into her hairline that she’d received while in the Fallow Mire just a week ago when she rescued her men from the Avvar holding them hostage. Gently, he ran his thumb over the bruise, as if he was a mage himself, as if his touch could somehow will away the damage that had been done. 

Still staring at the bruise, he continued, not noticing that his voice had dropped to a whisper, like he was talking to himself as much as her. 

“I tried to see you as ‘just’ the Herald before, but when you walked out of the Chantry to… I realized too late that I couldn’t. When you showed up at the mountain pass, I saw how incredibly strong you are, and when I carried you the rest of the way back, I could feel how terrifyingly fragile you are too. I can’t see you as ‘just’ anything,” he recalled, meeting her eyes again, but when he saw just how unguarded she was, her eyes full of hope and fear with her head leaning into his touch, he realized it was a mistake that he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret even as all words, all air, seemed to vanish from his grasp. 

Instead, he took another half-step forward, and when her lips parted, he found words and air to be completely unnecessary as long as Evelyn was within arm’s reach, so with his free hand, he pulled her closer by the small of her back. When her eyes closed, he found himself just as mesmerized as he’d been when they were open. 

Finally, he leaned down and— 

The door behind him slammed, startling Evelyn into taking half a step back, bumping into the battlements. 

“Commander! You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.” 

Cullen stood there just long enough to help steady her and clench his teeth before turning to the scout with an angry growl. “What?” 

“Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay,’” the scout said, oblivious to the ire of the commander. Now, even Evelyn has straightened herself, becoming the serious, commanding Inquisitor again as she stared impassively at the scout that had totally, utterly ruined the moment. Of course, it was foolish of her to be up on the battlements anyway, flirting out in the open where anyone with eyes could look up and— 

“Or… to your office… right,” the scout said a moment later, and while Evelyn couldn’t see Cullen’s expression, she imagined it wasn’t happy, judging by the scout backing away from him very slowly, like prey trying to escape from a great beast. 

“If you need to—” Evelyn started as the door closed behind their interrupter, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. She let out a startled sound when Cullen’s lips pressed against hers, but it was swiftly followed by a pleased hum. 

Maker, he felt more solid than the battlements, holding her there, firmly by the waist and gently pulling her face to his. And his lips were softer than she’d imagined. Even with the stubble, she’d thought it would be a little rough at least, but instead it was almost ticklish. 

He broke away far too soon. 

“I’m sorry. That was… really nice,” he said, bashfully smiling at her as he took half a step back, giving her some space, but she just followed him like a magnet. 

“Very,” she whispered, reaching up to pull him back within reach so that she could capture his lips for her own. Without hesitation, his arms wound their way around her again, and Maker she never wanted to leave that embrace. For the first time in… what felt like forever, she felt _safe_ there with him wrapped around her. 

Eventually, their lips broke apart again, and she dropped her head to rest it against the fur on his shoulder. Maker, she wished he wasn’t in full armor so that she could hear if his heart was about to burst from his chest too. But she could feel him smiling into her hair as he held her against him, and it was enough. Maker, it was enough to leave her grinning for a week if only she could, if only they could stay there a while longer. 

But she knew there was still work to be done. 

Finally pulling away, she pressed a kiss to his jaw before stepping just out of reach, and when she saw his reluctant expression, almost pouting, she felt like she might cry from the overwhelming fullness in her chest. Instead, she smiled up at him. 

“I still have work to do, but I can come back later, if you like?” she asked, hopeful and the pout melted from his face as he returned her smile. 

“I would like that very much.” 


End file.
